


Scars

by JayTheSaltyBastard



Category: Original Work
Genre: Acceptance, Body Worship, Depression, F/F, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Inspired by Art, Original Transgender Female Character, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Scars, Self-Acceptance, Sort Of, getting better, no names mentioned, not in a sexual way - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 13:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18830074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayTheSaltyBastard/pseuds/JayTheSaltyBastard
Summary: 'Scars remind us where we've been. They don't have to dictate where we're going' — David Rossi





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vapidlex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vapidlex/gifts).



> Inspired by [this](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bxb0v5fFIE8/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=y10ihdn8pyf7)

_I don’t think you’ll ever truly understand the extent of how far gone I was before I met you._

  


I stared at myself in the mirror, my bloodied, broken fist clenched hard at my side. I ignored the crack in the mirror, ignored the blood dripping onto the floor, ignored the pain in my hand that made me want to scream. I only stared. I was tired, oh so tired. Why hadn’t I given up yet? There was so little left for me, no one would even notice if I was gone.

  


_You didn’t see me lose everything and realize that I have no identity._

  


Flashing lights went off in my head. Memories swirled together until I couldn’t pick anything apart. They were all mashed together, screaming, pain, the smell of alcohol, a half-empty beer bottle being smashed over my head. Pain again, but this time it was in my chest. A scream of agony, but it wasn’t physical pain this time, no, it was much deeper than that. I wondered faintly if these were my own recollections, was I even myself anymore? Did I even exist to begin with?

  


_I didn’t show the scars because I was embarrassed that they even left a mark._

  


I’d gotten good at applying the concealer to my larger injuries. Even then, I always wore sweatshirts to hide the worst of them. I’ve always told anyone who cared enough to ask that the scratches on my hands were from having a mean cat. ‘He just thinks he’s playing,’ I’d say. Oh, how the lies added up. I was embarrassed by the scars, embarrassed that I was too much a coward to do anything to make them stop appearing.

  


_I wanted them to fade, but I know there’s a chance they never will. Which sucks._

  


I’ve scrubbed and I’ve scrubbed and I’ve scrubbed, but all I get in response is angry red skin. I clench my teeth to hold back a scream of anger. If I scream, she wakes up, and if she wakes up, I get more beatings. I take in a shuddering breath, finishing in the shower before changing into my night clothes and laying in my bed. Tonight, the tears don’t come. Instead, I am left staring at my wall until the morning light seeps through my window. I haven’t slept at all, I want oh so badly to give up, but I’m scared of what would happen if I fail.

 

I’m more scared of what would happen if I succeed.

  


_They’re not horrible. Some days I forget they’re even there_

  


I’m not quite smiling, but the depression that has taken hold of me seems lighter, it’s not pressing down on my chest anymore. I can feel the smallest twitch of my lips as I watch my friends mess around. I’m not frightened by every shadow, and I don’t feel the weight of my safety resting on my shoulders. For the first time in a while, I can breathe.

  


_But others, they’re all I can think about_

  


I’m out in the woods where no one can hear me. I scream at the top of my lungs, attacking trees and logs in blind anguish. Eventually, my screams die down, but that’s only because my voice has failed me. When I get home, I curl up in my bed and will the tears to come. I want to cry, I want to scream, I was to feel _something_. My throat is on fire and barely more than a rasp escapes me, but the tears never fall.

  


_Some days it became unbearable. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand them. Until…_

  


I can’t speak after my episode in the woods, not only is it painful to try, but my vocal cords refuse to work. I go to the library after school one day, she’ll be working late, so I’ll have time before I have to go home. I stare longingly at the café, wishing for nothing more than an iced coffee to soothe my throat and give me a little more energy. Sighing, I turn, but I run headlong into a soft chest. A hear an apology but it barely registers as I stare.

  


_You showed up._

  


You are taller than me by a long shot, your long red hair cascading mesmerizingly down your shoulders and back. I can’t help but stare up at your gentle brown eyes. When was the last time someone looked at me like that? I don’t know. You look behind me and offer me a coffee as an apology. Dumbly, I nod and follow you to the counter. You order and pay and then we sit down. Our conversation is simple, though I am forced to write on a notepad, but you don't seem to mind. Eventually, I have to leave, and I scurry home. I get back just in time.

  


_I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know if you would stay._

  


I don’t expect to see you again, but I do. This time, we’re at a bakery, and you buy us lunch. I’m able to talk this time, and we have an actual conversation. We swap phone numbers and spend the night texting each other. We speak sometimes, and every time we do, I’m afraid it will be our last. Will you leave me like everyone else? Will you find someone more worth your time and forget I ever existed?

  


_And then you did._

  


We’ve known each other for months at this point, all of my doubts about you leaving are fading away. You never ask about my scars or my home life. You only accept me and I appreciate that. More than you will ever know. One day, I’m at your house and I accidentally walk in on you changing. You turn around and I realize for the first time that your chest is completely flat. I notice the synthetic breasts lying on your bed, and turn back to you in surprise. But you are defiant, you tell me that, if I can’t accept you, I need to leave. I’ve never seen anyone be so bold. I kind of like it.

  


_You were finally able to teach me_

  


I got away from her, but I still hate my body and all the scars it has on it. You are supportive the entire time, though, and you love and cherish me. You kiss the scars where the flesh has raised and trace the ones that sunk back into my body. You are always gentle, and, for that, I am eternally grateful. You always tell me how beautiful I am, and, despite everything I’ve been through, I believe you.

  


_To be okay with myself again_

  


It is the first time I’ve worn a tank top in years. I get many stares from people as you and I walk down the street, but every time I get nervous or start to shy away, you always remind me that what they think doesn't matter, and that my body is my own and no one has any right to judge me for it. I look up into your eyes and smile at you.

 

I’ve never been so happy in my entire life.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this helped some of you out there who think they aren't pretty enough or don't think they meet societies standards of how they should look. You are all beautiful and deserve to be loved.


End file.
